Imaginary Friend
by artlikecandy
Summary: Dan was Phil's imaginary friend as a child, but he stops seeing him at the age of 9. When Phil is 26, Dan comes back, and old feelings resurface. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**1989**

''Phil, come on, darling, one more bite.''

The toddler pouted at his mother. He kicked and struggled in his high chair.

''No!''

Phil's mother sighed. ''Please, baby? For me? One more bite for mummy, come on.''

Phil struggled harder. ''_No!''_ he whined.

His mother sighed again. She was sighing a lot these days. Feeding Phil was always a struggle. She had tried everything; offering to give him sweets, pretending to eat the baby food herself and making loud ''mmm'' noises, even pretending to cry and asking Phil to eat his food so she would feel better. Nothing worked. Phil would pull the same stubborn face, his blue eyes glaring at the plastic spoon as he replied in the same petulant tone.

''_No, no, no, no!''_

Phil's mother was beginning to get desperate. She knew that refusing to eat food was common in toddlers. It was normal behaviour, but she couldn't help but worry endlessly. Phil was awfully scrawny. She racked her brain desperately for a solution, as Phil kicked his little feet against the high chair harder.

Then it came to her. ''Phil, if you don't eat the rest of this food, you won't be allowed to play with Dan any more.''

Phil stopped kicking, and looked up at his mother, his eyes wide with interest. His mother waited patiently, staring right back at him, just as determinedly. Phil could tell she meant business.

Reluctantly, Phil opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful of food. Phil's mother gasped exaggeratedly.

''Good boy! What a good boy! Yes you are!'' she praised, kissing him all over. Phil giggled at his mother's kisses.

''Can I go play with Dan now?'' Phil said, his voice muffled slightly as his mother held him close.

''Yes, of course, darling. Go play.'' she agreed.

Imaginary friends were normal behaviour in toddlers too. Soon, some day, Phil would be able to play with real boys and girls, and wouldn't be so difficult during meal times, either. That day couldn't come soon enough, she thought to herself, as she watched her son chatting happily to thin air.

**1992**

Mealtimes were a lot easier now.

''Dinner's ready!''

The whole family gathered at the dinner table. Phil's mum turned to him first.

''Would you like some roast potatoes, Phil?''

Phil nodded eagerly. ''Please.''

She smiled, and piled them on to his plate. Phil was a lot less fussy now. He liked lots of foods, and ate almost anything his mother cooked with no problem. There was one incident with mushy peas that Phil doesn't like to think about. His mum had shouted at him so much, she had nearly scared Dan away. Dan had tugged on his sleeve, pleading with him silently to eat his dinner, brown eyes full of fear at the thought of what Phil's mum might do if he didn't. Phil took one look at his friend's apprehensive expression, and started shovelling the peas into his mouth. His mother had stood in shocked silence, mid-shout. After that, Phil never kicked up a fuss. He couldn't risk losing Dan.

Dan was his best friend. He had been there for as long as Phil could remember.

When he was really small, Dan would make him giggle all the time, pulling funny faces and imitating his parents. His parents assumed he was just an unusually happy child.

Phil didn't like the other children on his road. They all had their own groups. They all had their own games. They were loud and sometimes they called Phil names. Phil didn't care anyway, he had Dan. Dan wasn't loud like the others. He was rather quiet, except when Phil made him laugh. Phil loved Dan's laugh, it was so loud and happy, and it filled his ears so clearly, too clearly to be imaginary. They always made eachother laugh.

When Phil tried to ride a bike for the first time, Dan was there, running along beside him, cheering him on. When Phil fell off his bike for the first time, Dan was there too. He got a huge scrape that went all up his left leg and it hurt so badly, and he cried until his face was cherry red and his voice was hoarse. Dan was there, stroking his hair soothingly, wishing he could get Phil's parents to come help and stop the pain, but Phil's parents couldn't see, or hear, him. Only Phil could.

That didn't stop his parents from using Dan as a tool in their discipline, though. Whenever Phil did something bad, it was always ''If you don't say sorry, you won't be seeing Dan for a long time!'' or ''This room better be clean in the next five minutes, or you won't be allowed to play with Dan again!''

Phil hated it when his parents threatened him with the absence of Dan. They didn't even _know_ Dan. How could they make him go away if they had never even seen him? Still, he didn't want to risk it. Whenever he talked to Dan about it, Dan told him he better do what his parents said, because he didn't know if they could send him away either. So Phil did what he was told eventually, because he loved Dan, and he couldn't bear the thought of not having him to talk to all the time.


	2. Chapter 2

**1996**

Phil hated school.

It wasn't the lessons or the teachers he minded. He didn't mind class tests, didn't mind doing his homework in his evening, didn't even mind getting up early in the morning. Actually, he quite enjoyed the learning side of things. The teachers were always kind to him, he was a very bright child so class tests and homework weren't a worry, and he had always been very hyper in the morning anyway.

He hated being alone. And that was what he was in school. It didn't help that he was pretty shy, but he found himself excluded from the other children, cast aside and labelled as 'unwanted' and 'unwelcome'. During lunch as he wandered around the yard alone, he could feel the other kids' eyes burning into him. He could feel them branding him as unwanted, and he could feel this label being stamped in hot red ink on his forehead, put there by their teasing glances and not so subtle sniggers directed at him. Phil hated school.

''I hate school.'' Phil muttered angrily one evening, as he was putting his schoolbooks back into his bag. Dan looked up from where he was sat cross-legged on Phil's bed.

''But you're so good at school.'' Dan answered.

Phil snorted. ''No I'm not.''

''Yes, you are.'' Dan's frown deepened with confusion. ''You're clever. You're good with words and stuff. You always get your spellings right and you never muck up when you're doing sums.'' he pointed out.

Phil turned to face Dan. ''Yeah, all that school stuff I'm ok with, but-'' Phil stopped himself. He sighed again, his head drooping down to his chest. There wasn't even any point telling Dan about all this. Dan didn't go to school. He had no idea what it was like.

Dan said nothing. The silence stretched on.

''The other kids don't like me.'' Phil said finally.

Silence.

Then, ''What do you mean?''

Phil traced the swirls of green and white in the carpet. ''I mean, they don't talk to me or let me join in their games. Whenever I try to talk to them, they _laugh_ at me, and go off somewhere else.'' He found a loose thread and started pulling at it.

''They all have their own best friends.'' Phil continued quietly. He looked up from the carpet at Dan.

Dan bit his lip. ''You know I wish I could go to your school too.'' he said.

''But you can't.'' Phil finished for him.

''Well, yeah.'' Dan said in a small voice.

Phil tugged hard on the carpet thread. It broke off with a _snap!_

''Bit useless then, aren't you?''

Phil saw Dan's eyes widen. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. The two boys stared at eachother. Phil with a look of fury, Dan with a look of hurt and shock.

''Useless?'' Dan whispered. ''I'm not useless. I'm your best friend!''

''Yeah, my best friend _who's not even real!_'' Phil shouted. He was suddenly on his feet, and he didn't know how he got there or why all these words were flying out of his mouth all of a sudden, all he knew was that he didn't want to have this big 'unwanted' stamp on him anymore.

''All the other kids have best friends that are always there for them. They walk to school together, play together, talk to eachother all the time, help eachother with homework and stuff. Their parents let them stay for dinner and bring them places together like the cinema or the zoo and they spend the whole day together. That's what best friends are _**supposed**_to do!'' Phil continued. Dan's eyes were filling with tears, and if Phil hadn't been so fed up with all of this, he would have stopped yelling by now. But he couldn't stop himself.

''You're my best friend, but nobody else can see you except me, nobody else can hear you, you're not able to go to school or anything because you're _not real! _You don't even have parents!'' Phil said incredulously. ''Where did you even come from, Dan? Why are you _here?''_

Phil stood and breathed heavily, his eyes wide, his fists shaking. Dan had his head buried in his hands, sobbing loudly. Or was he? Was the crying coming from Phil's head or outside it? Whatever it was, he had to get away from it.

_Not real, not real, not real._

Phil threw the door open and stomped down the stairs and into the living room, switching on the TV. He grabbed the remote and turned the volume up as far as it would go. He had to get Dan's sobs out of his head. He could still hear them loud and clear, echoing around in his head.

''Phil!'' his dad shouted. ''Phil, turn that off now and go to bed!''

Phil wasn't listening. He focused hard on the pixels on the screen. His father came into the room and switched the TV off.

''Phil, if you don't go to bed right this instant, you won't be seeing Dan ever again. Do you hear me?'' his father warned.

''_Good!''_ Phil screamed. ''I don't wanna see him ever again! Go on, make him go away, see if I care!'' He ran past his father, out the room and back up the stairs into his room, ignoring his mother's calls, asking what was going on.

He slammed the door shut, squeezing his eyes shut against the oncoming flow of tears. When he finally calmed down, he turned to his bed. He supposed he better deal with Dan.

But Dan wasn't there. There was no mark left upon the duvet where Dan had been sitting. He was gone.

**2013**

Phil's alarm clock didn't go off that morning. Instead, he was woken by the banging and mechanical screeches of construction work.

He groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. His neighbours were constantly rebuilding and extending their apartment. It was a never-ending pain. Why did they even bother? Phil thought. Everyone in this apartment block had to live in these mopey, shoebox sized rooms, no matter how much they tried to improve theirs. And they certaintly weren't making Phil's home any nicer by making such a racket early in the morning.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position on the cold mattress. He turned his head groggily to look at the time on his cheap, unreliable alarm clock.

8:17.

Phil's eyes shot wide open. It was 8:17. And he had to be in work by 8:30.

''_Shit.''_

He wrenched the covers off and began rummaging for his work clothes in the unkempt mess that was his floor. What did he have time for? Shower? No, Phil thought, hygiene would have to take a backseat today, if he wanted to keep his job. Breakfast? He was never really hungry in the morning anyway. He looked back at the clock.

8:21.

''_Shitshitshit!''_

Phil turned back to the floor, grabbing a random aerosol can and, praying that it was deodorant, sprayed its contents under his arms frantically.

''Oh god. Oh god. Trousers. Where the- Ah!''

Phil triumphantly seized his slacks and pulled them up over his legs. He managed to locate a shirt and a tie nearby, and soon he was darting out the door, shoving his shoes on, fumbling with the door handle, his train ticket clamped in his mouth and his tie thrown around his neck. He could make himself look more presentable when he was on the train, right now he just needed to get to his office as soon as possible.

The train station was full of busy, bustling, business people, making their way to work calmly and efficently. They moved in sync; slide the ticket in the gate, pass through, take the ticket, walk up to the platform and check watch every 5 seconds. They reminded Phil of robots in a sci-fi film. Robots that were programmed by some evil government to work effortlessly. And Phil was the one that had gone wrong, the one with a circuit missing or a screw left loose. Except this wasn't a film, this was his life, and as he stood on the platform adjusting his tie messily, he wondered exactly how he had gotten here. 26 years of age and a lot of wasted potential.

Phil checked his watch. 8:29. His heart sank. His boss was going to be so mad. She was probably going to yell at him. Oh god.

Blood rushed to Phil's face just at the thought of his boss screeching at him about his horrible manners and incapability to function like a normal person, and his co-workers smirking and sniggering at him. The urge to turn from the platform and sprint home clouded his vision for a moment.

''Hello? What the fuck are you playing at?''

Phil jumped. An angry businessman was standing right beside him, shouting into his ear. There was a flood of people pushing past Phil to get on to the train. Phil blinked. He didn't even notice the train coming.

''S-sorry,'' he said to the businessman, but he had already gone, joined the flow of people entering the train, that was filling up rapidly.

Really, he could give up now. Who was he kidding? He was nothing like these people. He didnt wear a tailored pinstriped suit, just a polyester black jacket he got from his dad and his old school trousers. He didn't have a briefcase, just a black messenger bag. Which, he suddenly realised with a start, he didn't have. He had left it at home and forgotten it in his hurry.

Resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands and weep, he stepped on to the train. Today would be a long, painfully lonely day. Or, as Phil liked to call it, Tuesday.


	3. Chapter 3

He gets through the day, but just barely. When he arrives at work, his boss doesn't yell at him, and he's relieved, until Patrick, the one friendly face in his office, tells him that she's quietly surveying everyone, because the company has to let someone go. As her sharp and steely eyes keep finding their way back to him throughout the day, Phil knows that someone is him. He swallows his own saliva about ten times more than a person usually does in a day, his mouth dry with anxiety. His boss walks slowly around his desk and watches him work. He can hear her heels clicking on the floor and he doesn't dare to turn his head to look at her, determined to do something to impress her and somehow prove that he deserves to keep his job. Although he doesn't know how he can possibly impress anyone by filling out paperwork, and he knows better than anyone that he most certainly doesn't deserve to keep his job, so what's the point, really?

His inner thoughts don't get much brighter after that. He walked to the train station, thankful that the day was over and he could finally go and shut himself away from judging eyes. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely registered his short, jittery co-worker and kind of friend Patrick beside him, who happened to be talking at a mile a minute.

''-ridiculous, isn't it, not fair at all, no, no, wretched woman she is, terrible really, eh, Phil?'' Patrick stammered, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose.

Patrick stutters a lot, but that doesn't stop him from getting all of his thoughts out, whether they're coherent or not. Phil doesn't mind; he likes listening to him. Mostly, anyway. Today it was hard for him to concentrate on something other than the bubble of anxiety swelling inside of him.

Patrick had gone silent, and Phil wondered why, before he remembered that he was waiting for an answer. ''O-oh, yeah. Terrible.'' he said in a rush, hoping Patrick didn't notice that Phil wasn't listening. Patrick was nice to Phil; he was pretty much the only person who was. He didn't want to lose the only friendly face he had in a sea of strangers.

Patrick smiled at Phil, his small eyes squinting, completely unaware of Phil's distracted state.  
''You don't worry, Phil. You don't worry one bit,'' he said gently, reaching up to pat the very tall Phil on the shoulder. ''You'll be alright, friend.''  
Phil managed to crack a smile. Patrick was a little odd, but he made Phil feel better. He felt the bubble of anxiety deflate a little.  
''Thanks, Patrick.'' he said. ''Hey, you know, you don't worry either. You're, uh- really great. Like, at work. You know.'' He tried to imitate Patrick's friendly tone. It came out flat and fake.  
Regardless, Patrick's warm smile never faltered. ''Thank you!'' he chirped.

The train slid into the station, and Phil crowded around the sliding doors, hoping to get a seat so the journey home would be somewhat bearable. Of course, this was the London Underground, and getting a seat at this time of the day was about as likely as finding a £100 note in your pocket.  
He shared a pole with Patrick, and they made small talk. Well, really, Patrick talked about a TV show he had watched last night, and Phil listened, nodding and laughing along. He liked talking to Patrick; it was easy, because Patrick talked so much. All Phil was expected to do was listen and drop a comment or two in every now and then. This was a major advantage for Phil, who had never really been any good at engaging in conversation with anyone in his life. In fact, he thought, the only person he had a good conversation with before Patrick was his imaginary friend. And he was pretty sure that conversation had been a sharing of theories on the latest episode of Pokémon. Phil smiled fondly at the memory.

''This your stop, Phil?'' Patrick said, pulling Phil out of his thoughts. He shook his head as if he was trying to get water out of his ear; he didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was getting pretty sick of constantly having to be shook back to reality by other people.  
He glanced out the window at the familiar scenery. ''Yeah, thanks, Patrick. Sorry, I'm really tired.'' he apologised, smiling at Patrick, who looked a little concerned.  
A huge, slightly dopey smile broke out on Patrick's face, replacing his concerned expression. ''I know, work is hard, eh? That wretched woman sure takes it out of me,'' Patrick sighed.  
Phil shuffled awkwardly. It seemed like Patrick was starting conversation again, and Phil didn't want to be rude, but he really had to go now or else he'd end up miles away from his house. And he really was tired.  
''Er- Patrick, I've to go. See you tomorrow, yeah?'' Phil said, offering a sheepish smile, edging towards the train door.  
''Bye, Phil! And hey, don't worry, remember?'' Patrick reminded him, as Phil stepped off the train, and the doors closed before Phil could answer.

Don't worry. That was easy for Patrick to say. Phil could do nothing but worry. Everyone in his office, including him, knew that he was the one to be sacked. The boss was always pointing out his flawed performance, and lately had even began picking on his appearance, which was usually quite sloppy, due to his lateness. Yet another contributing factor to him losing his job. As he stepped into the shabby little lift in the lobby, Phil wondered how he had lasted so long in that office.  
He opened the door to his flat. He flicked on the light. His lonely living space was illuminated. As soon as the front door was closed, Phil let his exhaustion wash over him. He trudged to the bathroom, intent on brushing his teeth before falling into bed and calling it a day.  
He applied the toothpaste to the bristles of the toothbrush and started to brush his teeth half-heartedly. He was so tired he could barely hold his arm up. He caught sight of himself in the mirror; messy black hair, half-lidded eyes with huge dark shadows behind his glasses. He barely recognised himself.  
Phil tossed his toothbrush aside and spit into the sink, not bothering to rinse. He clambered into bed and tried to forget the empty, dead eyes he had seen in the mirror.

* * *

Phil woke up that morning, with his sheets twisted around him and a headache blaring in his head, but at least he woke up on time.

He dragged himself into the shower for a quick wash. He tried not to think about work. Every time he did, he felt that horrible rush of fear; when your stomach flips and you can feel the blood rush through your veins and you get that weird feeling in your hands. As he leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes, trying and failing not to think about his imminent unemployment, Phil felt a sudden pang of longing for someone. He wished Dan was there.

Phil's eyes shot open. He hadn't thought of that name in a long time.  
And with the name, a flood of memories came back to him. Himself as a young child, around seven or eight, and another boy with brown hair and brown eyes and olive skin and a giddy laugh.  
Phil smiled to himself. He thought about how happy that imaginary friend had made him. How real it had felt. It still confused Phil how easy it had always been to picture Dan, how it never felt like he had to make any part of him up. He was just there, his own person, ready to make Phil laugh. He guessed that he must have just had a great imagination and a crippling case of loneliness as a child.

Remembering where he was with a start, Phil snapped out of his thoughts. The water was starting to run cold. How long had he been in the shower?  
He leapt out of the shower and grabbed his phone from the windowsill. His eyes widened. He had accidentally spent ten minutes more than he had planned in the shower.  
''Oh, fuck.'' he gasped.

He wrenched the bathroom door open and sprinted around his apartment, trying to piece himself together. He was going to be late again. Just another typical day, really, except this is probably going to be his last day getting ready for this job. Fuck it, Phil thought, as he hurried out the door. He hated this job anyway. He took the stairs two at a time. Maybe it would be good for him to finally be rid of this awful burden. He came to the last set of stairs and stopped. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to bed, he thought.  
Then Phil thought of electricity and food bills and rent payments due. He kept walking, quickening his pace. If he got the train now, he could be at the office ten minutes late instead of fifteen. Just in time for his execution.

* * *

**A/N: **Gahhhh this is so late I'm sorry it took me so long to update omg i originally planned on updating this every day or every second day lol whoops  
Thank you so much for the reviews and follows and favourites you're all so sweet! This is my first ever chaptered fic and it's my second ever fic so all this feedback has really motivated me and also made me very happy so thank you!  
Next chapter soon~


	4. Chapter 4

The elevator door slid open with a _ding!_ and Phil stepped into the office. He walked towards his desk, passing other desks occupied by men and women in white collared shirts, sitting in swivel chairs and busy doing the same boring paperwork Phil had been doing for the past year. None of them looked up as Phil passed. Nobody said ''good morning'' or even a simple greeting. That wasn't anything new, though.

Phil sighed as he got to his own desk and performed the monotonous daily routine. He put down his bag, sat in his chair and reluctantly pulled the pile of forms and memos on his desk towards him. He craned his head to the left towards Patrick's desk, to share a gloomy look of boredom like they always did.

Patrick's chair was empty, and his desk was bare.

Phil's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Where was Patrick? Maybe he moved, Phil thought. He could have gotten moved downstairs. But that didn't make sense. Downstairs was a whole different department. No, Phil decided, he couldn't have been moved. So where the hell was he? Then it hit him. Patrick had probably been fired.

Phil's heart sank. The only person he considered to be a friend in this hellhole was gone. He turned back to his own desk, staring dumbly at his pens and papers, trying to process this.

''Hey, where's weirdo number two?''

''The old bird sacked him this morning, did you not see it?''

Phil snapped out of his daze to listen intently to the gossiping workers behind him.

''No, I wasn't in till nine.''

''Oh shit, you should have seen it. Hilarious. He just dropped a stapler, and she went ballistic. Screaming and shouting at him to pack his stuff and go. He went all red and teary-eyed, it was hilarious.''

''Ha! I have to start coming in earlier, I always miss the good stuff.''

Phil pulled himself away from the conversation. He didn't want to hear anymore. Poor Patrick. He didn't deserve to be let go. Guilt swelled like a balloon inside of Phil, floating up to his throat and forming a lump there. If Phil hadn't been late, he would have been targeted easily by the boss. Phil would have been fired instead of Patrick. Phil hated his job, and it showed through his poor work performance. Patrick didn't like it either, but at least he was good at it. Phil should have been fired instead of Patrick. But because of Phil's consistent sloppiness, Patrick had lost his job, and his only source of income. Patrick was now unemployed, during a recession, and it was all Phil's fault.

He closed his eyes in shame and took a moment to revel at what a horrible person he was. Then, with a deep sigh, he got back to work.

* * *

The same monotonous work routine continued throughout the day, this time with added loneliness. Phil had nobody to chat with during his break, nobody to sit with at lunch. Nobody even looked at him. He felt like a child again, wandering the playground alone.

By the time he got home, he was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up in his bed and pass out. But when he opened his bedroom door to collapse onto his bed, he found that there was already someone on it.

Someone with brown hair and big, bright, brown eyes.

Phil stared at him. Dan stared right back. They maintained eye contact for a moment, before Phil opened his mouth and let out a yell.

Dan's eyes widened suddenly and he yelped, startled by Phil's shouting. He jumped off the bed hurriedly.

''Phil! Phil, calm down!'' Dan took a step towards him, but Phil backed away quickly, his back pressing up against the bedroom door.

''No, no! Stay back!'' he said shakily. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide with shock.

''It's ok, come on, I'm not gonna hurt you.'' Dan said. He sounded nonchalant, but Phil could hear the slight hurt in his voice.

Phil tried to compose himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to slow his breathing down. He didn't really know what he would find when he opened his eyes. Logically, Dan should be gone, and he can wave off this little blip in his sanity as fatigue. If Dan was still there, then, well, he was probably insane.

He opened his eyes slowly.

Dan stood in his bedroom, looking at Phil concernedly.

Yep, he was insane.

''Oh god, I'm insane.'' Phil whispered to himself.

''Well you sure are acting like it,'' Dan commented.

''I need to sit down,'' Phil muttered. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to Dan.

Dan stepped aside as Phil staggered over to his bed and sat down heavily. He breathed out slowly.

There was a long silence.

''Sooo...'' Dan started.

Phil looked up at him slowly.

Dan had changed over the years. He was much, much taller now; just as tall as Phil, maybe even taller. His hair was styled into a messy fringe, and his face had lost the puppy fat he had when he was younger. He stood tall and slim, wearing a T-shirt and skinny jeans. He was like a really hot hallucination.

Phil looked him up and down for a few minutes in disbelief. Then Dan laughed.

''Stop checking me out and close your mouth, perv.''

Phil snapped his jaw shut. He hadn't realised he was staring at Dan with his mouth wide open. He blushed, feeling like an idiot. Then he remembered that Dan was a figment of his imagination. He felt like even more of an idiot.

''I don't understand.''

''You and me both.''

Phil gave Dan a small smile. ''I haven't seen you in so long.''

Dan grinned back, looking relieved that Phil wasn't scared of him anymore. ''I know.''

He stepped tentatively towards the bed, looking to Phil for permission. Phil nodded sharply, feeling a little guilty that Dan had to ask.

Dan sat beside him and they both stared at the door, not saying anything. While Phil was sat in a stunned silence, Dan had started tapping his hands off his legs. Phil smiled at the familiar action.

''Ok.'' Phil sighed. ''You're...here. In my room. When did you get here?''

''I'm not entirely sure. I just woke up here, on your bed, and then you walked in,'' Dan explained.

''Where were you before?'' Phil asked.

Dan shrugged. ''I don't know. It's hard to explain.''

''Try,'' Phil pleaded. He was trying desperately to wrap his head around this bizarre situation.

''Ok, ok. I woke up on your bed, so I guess before that I was asleep. But it wasn't like sleeping, I felt awake, I was aware of everything. I was trapped in this kind of limbo. It was so weird. Like I was just drifting through space.''

''What did it look like?''

''Nothing,'' Dan said simply. ''There was nothing around me. I couldn't even see my own body. I saw you sometimes, though,'' he admitted.

Phil's eyes widened. ''You saw me?'' he questioned.

''Yeah. Just flashes. It would flash in my mind, you sitting at a desk, or you lying in bed, or you on a train. And I got this feeling, too. I was just weighed down by loneliness and depression. It was horrible, but it only lasted a second.''

Flashes of him, living his life. How could Dan see that? This didn't make any sense. It was impossible. Except it had to make sense. How else would Dan know that Phil got the train to work, or that he worked in an office? Maybe his clothes gave it away. But that didn't explain why Dan was actually here in the first place, anyway.

And Dan could feel his feelings. That part was really weird. ''So you saw me...you saw my life. And you felt...sad?'' Phil said.

Dan nodded. ''Yeah. Like, really, really sad. You didn't look too happy, either.'' he added.

Phil sighed. That sounded familiar. He was so miserable all the time. He must look miserable all the time too.

He was brought out of his reverie by Dan yawning loudly.

''Oh god, I'm wrecked.'' he said, stretching his arms above his head.

''Yeah, me too.'' Phil agreed. ''I think I need to sleep...a lot.''

Dan frowned. ''You don't think I'm a hallucination, do you?'' he said, sounding rather offended.

''I don't know, Dan, all I know is that I haven't seen you since I was 8, now you're here in my room after being in some kind of other dimension for about 20 years, and I'm really fucking tired, so if you're still here in the morning, can we just please discuss this then?'' Phil rubbed his eyes tiredly. He couldn't believe he was arguing with his imaginary friend. He felt like an infant, not a 26 year old man.

Dan said nothing, he just smirked impishly at Phil.

''What?'' Phil demanded.

''You swore,'' Dan pointed out. He giggled childishly. ''I've never heard you swear before.''

Phil looked at him, not quite believing what he was hearing. Either Dan was still in the mindset of an 8 year old, or he was just really immature. Probably the latter, Phil thought.

* * *

I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! Writer's block and procrastination are a really bad mix.

The story's taking off now, so chapters should be coming more regularly! ^.^ ily all xxx


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